


Passion Fruit

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 16:07:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20028562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Is this what Vinniereallywants?





	Passion Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in _Indigo Boys._

**Part One: Surprise Party**

A rainbow of balloons covered the ceiling, streamers of crepe paper hung from every place possible, music filled the house—

The kitchen was filled with food, more food than Vinnie had ever seen in one place at one time, all smelling delicious, homemade, steaming hot, waiting to be eaten—

Wine flowed like tap water, and a sheet cake nearly the size of the dining room tabletop it rested on had his name spelled in icing—

The house was filled with laughter and the sound of the voices of the people Vinnie loved most in the world, and he'd never felt so wonderful. _If it got any better than this, there'd be no point to heaven,_ his father used to say (when his mother wasn't around).

He saw Pete smiling, talking to Mrs. Roselli from next door, and started to walk over to him, but his mother waylaid him, hugging him, telling him she loved him, took him to talk to his aunt Lucia. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something that didn't seem right, but there wasn't time to figure out what it was, Aunt Lucia was hugging him, going on about how when he was barely old enough to walk he'd licked all the icing off the cupcakes she'd made for the church bake sale. "He didn't even eat the cupcakes," his mother said, with a fond indulgence in her voice—something he was sure she had not had at the time, though he didn't really remember committing this transgression, just the retelling of it at family gatherings.

A whisper of Frank's voice from behind him caught his attention, but now his mother had moved on to some other childhood story, and he was expected to listen.

"He always wanted to be a policeman, do good and help other people—"

_"—couldn't get his legs spread fast enough—"_ Sonny's voice, tender with an edge of lust. Vinnie tried to turn around, but Angie was there, talking to him, handing him a plate of food.

_"Nothing gets him hotter than biting his neck—"_ That was Frank's voice, oh dear God what was going on?

"Vinnie, aren't you hungry?" Angie's worried voice. "It's all for you."

_"Really? Have to try that—"_

"I'm not—Ange—" What could he say?

"Just be sure you're ready to give him what he wants."

A friendly laugh; Vinnie turned around and wanted to die.

They were sitting together on the sofa, Frank and Sonny, talking amiably, as if they had known and liked each other for years. Sonny was wearing his best Sunday dinner suit; Frank, oddly, was wearing jeans and a sleeveless black t—shirt.

He had to get over to them, get them away from each other—_God, this could blow my cover—do I even have a cover? Who am I? What're they even doing at the same party—they live in two separate worlds, that was how it was supposed to be, not like this._

"Ange, I gotta—"

"Vinnie, where're you going?"

"Vincenzo?" His mother, looking at him curious, disapproving.

Sonny said something Vinnie couldn't hear, but Frank laughed, poured some more wine, and Vinnie knew exactly what he'd said—talking about him, comparing notes—_oh, God—_

"I'll be right back," he apologized, handing the plate back to Angie, moving toward the sofa. Frank looked up as he approached, and Vinnie knew he couldn't do this, couldn't face the two of them together, couldn't—couldn't—

He veered off, heading for the front door, needing to escape the noise and suffocating smells and the oppressive crush of people, but Sonny's hand caught his wrist. "Where ya goin'?"

Sonny, smiling at him, loving, but underneath that something ominous, dangerous—

He forced himself to look at Frank, whose face told him nothing, eyes cool and closed and that told him everything—he was in more trouble than he could imagine— 

"Vinnie?" A woman's voice, and he woke with unutterable gratitude. "Vinnie, are you all right?"

Amber. He didn't want to be with her now, but he certainly didn't want to be alone with himself. "Yeah, I'm OK."

"You seemed kind of restless," she went on, not quite satisfied with his answer.

"I—dreams. Just dreams."

Her hand stroked up his back, and his body responded even while his mind rebelled. _Not now—I can't—_

He could, though, and with frightening ease, though he was sick to his stomach and his head was throbbing, the feel of Sonny's hand still on his wrist, the look in Frank's eyes still in his mind.

**Part Two: Demonstration**

Frank's eyes were warm from the wine, and the pressure of Sonny's hand was firm but loving. "I think there's only one way to settle this," Sonny said, glancing at Frank, who nodded.

"You may be right."

They were taking Vinnie down the hall to his bedroom. The door closed behind him, Frank put a chair under the knob as Sonny untied Vinnie's tie. He held it up. "You think we're gonna need this?"

Frank assessed Vinnie momentarily. "I don't think so. I think he'll be very cooperative, once we get started." Frank was taking off his t—shirt, slipping off his shoes—and Vinnie just watched him, transfixed and unbelieving. Frank glanced at him. "Get a move on, sport," and Vinnie began undressing himself.

Sonny had been quicker than Frank; his clothes off, he helped Vinnie remove his own, hands stroking everywhere. A part of Vinnie wanted to die, but somehow he was so turned on. "Try not to make too much noise," Sonny advised. "You don't wanna break up your mom's nice party." He stroked one finger up from Vinnie's ass to the back of his neck, a chill following the caress. "Here?" he asked, rubbing the back of Vinnie's neck. Vinnie felt himself getting hard.

"Yeah, right there." Frank was also undressed, his jeans in a pile on the floor, and Vinnie was having a difficult time looking at either one of them. "Why don't you lay down?" he asked.

_Soft danger; no, hard danger. Don't argue with Frank._ He lay down.

And was deluged.

Sonny biting his neck, then licking where he'd bitten, kissing him, kissing him, Frank pulling his legs apart, taking his cock in his mouth, sucking hard, taking him all the way, Sonny kissing his mouth, biting his lips, sucking them, "Mmmm—"

"Quiet," Sonny whispered, and Frank bit down slightly, warningly, causing him to stifle another moan. "I don't wanna have to gag you; I like your mouth too much."

Vinnie's head was spinning with overstimulation; he was close to coming; then Frank was moving away from him, leaving him throbbing painfully; Sonny's mouth on his muffled his curse. He felt Sonny smile.

Frank pushed him over onto his left side, moved his right leg up to gain access. Sonny lay in front of him, still kissing him, rubbing their cocks together, while Frank's fingers pushed inside him, found his prostate, stroked, stroked; again he stifled a moan. "Love kissing you," Sonny whispered, his voice going through Vinnie just as Frank's cock drove into him. Vinnie wanted to yell; all the passion inside him was building up, ready to explode. Frank was burning him up inside, and Sonny's hands were driving him crazy, pulling his cock, squeezing it. He was close again, so close, but Frank wasn't going to let him come; he had pulled Vinnie's balls down firmly, ignoring his gasp, his struggling, riding him hard, licking his neck, biting his shoulder. Sonny pulled his mouth away, looked into Vinnie's eyes. "Don't fight it, baby, you're nowhere near done yet, and if you start fighting, I'll tie you to the bed. You got it?"

He nodded, closed his eyes, trying to think of something besides the fire inside him, Frank's breath on his neck, Sonny's hands bringing him closer to the edge, Frank's hands keeping him from going over. He wanted to swear, he wanted to scream, he wanted to come, God, he wanted to come, but if he did he **was** going to scream, his whole family was in the next room, he couldn't take it, couldn't stand it, Frank was just about to come, he could feel it, it was just a matter of seconds and then all that friction and heat was going to explode inside him and he was going to come no matter what, he was going to—

Sonny, sliding against him, getting closer and closer, that heat against his dick, Sonny was coming, oh, God, oh, God—

Frank coming inside him, he couldn't take it, he pushed himself against Sonny, rubbing against his body, Frank fucking him into Sonny—

—pulling himself hard, three fingers shoved up his ass, deep as he could get them, God, yes, yes, yes, take me, do it, God, yes—

"Yes, God yes do it yes yes yes—!" Alone in his room he screamed the words, coming in his hand.

He lay panting, letting his breathing go back to normal. Absently he brought his left hand up to lick his fingers, the taste bringing back other tastes. He shivered, the air chilling him as his sweat dried; he turned over, pulling a blanket tight around himself, wrapping himself around a pillow. It was always like this when he was alone, always the same, Sonny and Frank loving him half to death. It scared him a little, this fantasy; not because it made him so hot, but because afterward, somehow, it comforted him so . . . .


End file.
